


Traditions old and new

by EnlacingLines



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, M/M, Main Game Spoilers, Post Game, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28292943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlacingLines/pseuds/EnlacingLines
Summary: Goro doesn’t really understand what he’s doing here. After all, he didn’t kill a God. But it’s Christmas Eve afternoon and he’s fretting over snacks of all damn things, because he’s somehow invited to the ex-Phantom Thieves Christmas Eve party.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 105





	Traditions old and new

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of Christmas eve themed fluff. I just want Goro to have a nice Christmas. 
> 
> Spoilers for the vanilla game, but no Royal spoilers. I also wrote this entire thing and realised I'd forgotten Morgana. Whoops. Shows I don't write canon often. 
> 
> Thank you to my amazing bestie Valania for betaing <3

Goro doesn’t really understand what he’s doing here. After all, he didn’t kill a God. But it’s Christmas Eve afternoon and he’s fretting over snacks of all damn things, because he’s somehow invited to the ex-Phantom Thieves Christmas Eve party. 

Goro was never really a Phantom Thief, considering his actions within the small time frame of cooperation were motivated on infiltration and assination; so, in instances when they decide to reminisce about those times, he stays well clear. Especially now, when none of what they commemorate involved him at all. 

But Akira had asked. Invited, even, and done that infuriating thing when he scrunches up his nose, eyes seeming to shine some unnamed shade of gunmetal that makes Goro so extremely susceptible, and said ‘please’ to his initial refusal. 

Stupid things like this make him weak. But it’s an acceptable level of weakness, or at least he had previously considered it so, before he was standing in an extremely busy store, getting increasingly anxious because he can’t fucking decide what to bring. 

This never used to happen. He never used to get so anxious his chest would tighten, despite how hideously awful his life was three years ago. He knows this good and well, because by the end of it, he was so resigned and numb, he could barely feel anything; yet at times like this, he almost regrets the progression of the future to the point where he wants to hide in a corner, pull his hair and scream over cakes versus candy. 

Almost. But not quite. 

He breathes for three seconds, curses manic shoppers under his breath, and pulls out his phone. It’s already blinking with a message, which makes sense considering that when he catches sight of the time he realises he’s already late and has therefore been standing in this aisle for an abnormal amount of time. 

_ Are you okay?  _

“No, you idiot,” Goro says, but affectionately, although a passing shopper gives him a look. 

_ Apologies, I am still shopping _ , he types and immediately Akira starts typing as Goro taps his foot, clutching the phone tightly. 

_ We could use drinks, if you can grab some on your way out? _

Goro exhales, a laugh breaking forth as he does. Apparently just over a year of dating, and Akira has the ability to read him like a book. Hardly surprising if he’s honest, Akira has always been able to see past whatever front he’s applying. 

He quickly marches to the drinks area, picks up a few bottles of what looks like will contain entirely too much sugar and additives, one a particularly garish blue colour, then joins the never-ending queue. By the time he leaves, he’s more than a little late, and still has the short train journey to go. 

He doesn’t really know what occurs at this yearly gathering. He’d been incapacitated the first time, somewhere not quite here and not quite there, his mind never fully allowing him to account for the time between the engine room and when he woke up in late January. Last year, he’s almost certain he would not have been welcome. He’d been dating Akira for a month then, and even being around the rest of his friends was almost impossible. 

It is entirely different now, but he still feels like an intruder at times, especially at events like these. Understandable; his role in that time will always be set, the past is immovable. The fact that they even accept him now is in many ways still baffling. Still, despite that knowledge that Akira would not invite him if he wasn’t welcome, it still takes him a moment to walk down the alleyway and head to Leblanc. 

It feels oddly nostalgic walking here, despite having done so last week. But Akira no longer lives or works here, so they do inevitably spend less of their time in the area. It still feels like home in the way he’d never lied about when he’d once told Akira his attic was soothing. It will probably always have this effect. 

He tries to open the door as inconspicuous as possible, but that’s difficult when your arrival is clearly being anticipated. 

“Finally! I’m starving, can we eat now?” Futaba yells, who had clearly been watching the door, as everyone stops and looks around. 

For a horrifying moment, he’s thrown back three years, mind calculating exactly who he could exploit for what, and how exactly to manipulate their tells with voice and tone, when he finds the load in his hand suddenly lightening. 

“How much did you buy, this must be heavy. Ooh, you got the new blue raspberry flavour, I love that one!” Ann says, appearing by his side and carefully taking the bag out of his hands. 

He hadn’t realised he’d been holding it so tightly, his fingers stiff and aching. She takes it, then wraps her other arm around him in a hug, and he doesn’t tense. That in itself is a victory hard won. 

“Merry Christmas,” she says softly, pulling back and smiling, just as Ryuji appears. 

“Yo. Nice, we need cups. Do we have cups?” he says, looking around, eyes falling to the row of mugs displayed behind the counter. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Sojiro says, and Goro just about stifles a grin before bowing to the man who is essentially Akira’s father at this point. Better than any blood relations in Goro’s mind. 

“Kid, I told you to stop doing that, go sit down and stop hovering near the door, all of you,” he says, speaking to them in the same way he did when they were all teenagers, which is the most comforting part of everything. 

Sojiro, he knows, should not welcome his presence. And yet he has in his own gruff way since Akira first burst into the shop, half dragging Goro through, hands held. He’s eternally grateful, if stumped, by that more than anything. 

Someone had the foresight to bring cups, as they are magically at the booth in the centre, all laid out ready with a huge amount of food as Ann and Ryuji unload the drinks and slip into their seats. As they do, Goro’s eyes zone into the person who makes that vice grip on his heart loosen, Akira smiling as he sits on the chair nearest him. Goro realises he’s the only one standing, and turns, about to look for a stool when Akira catches his eye. 

“You can sit here,” he says, patting his lap, causing Ann to snort and Futaba to make a face. 

“No canoodling this early in the day,” she says with drama that possibly means it’s fake disgust, but he’s never quite sure. Goro ignores Akira’s antics in favour of dragging a stool across and perching a little outside the circle. 

Yusuke hands him a glass of what is thankfully not the bright blue drink, and gives him a nod in greeting, which Goro returns. He finds Yusuke almost the easiest to get on with at times; he’s odd and Goro cannot keep up with his thinking, but there’s an undercurrent of understanding which runs clearer than with some of the others. 

“Okay, we’re all here. Does anyone want to do the honours?” Makoto says, and Haru, who Goro mostly avoids at these times, smiles brightly at her. 

“I think our Leader should,” Ryuji says, and there’s a strange air to this which speaks of practice, and Goro wonders if this is some sort of ritual. He feels more siloed than ever, but remains quiet. 

“I’ve hardly been anyone’s Leader for a while. But sure,” Akira says, standing up, and oddly they all do as well. Goro stays seated until he feels Makoto staring at him, then quickly climbs to his feet. 

“Here’s to another Christmas eve. We did it,” he says, and Futaba bursts out laughing. 

“Aww, no cheer,” she says, and Yusuke chuckles. 

“That was quite the scene,” he says, raising his cup, and the others follow suit. 

“A one-time thing, though. Let’s just say merry Christmas,” Haru says, and there’s a chorus of replies, Futaba trying to bang her cup against Ryuji’s who nearly gets soda all down his shirt. 

Goro drinks, eyes flicking up and happening to meet Akira’s who takes a sip without breaking it. He feels his face heat but keeps their eyes locked until he’s swallowed, when Akira breaks formation and walks towards him. 

That seems to be a signal as Yusuke immediately starts piling his plate, and everyone else calls their food preference, as Akira comes to stand in front of him. 

“Hi,” he says and Goro huffs. 

“Hello. I’m not sitting in your lap,” he says and Akira grins. 

“Maybe later,” he says, with no room for retort as he leans in and kisses him. 

Goro doesn’t think he’ll ever get over first kisses. There are too many of them, the shock and surprise, the warmth and the care, the way the ignite and spin him. The first kiss of today is different from the first kiss of yesterday, and different to the very first time. They all count, though, in his mind, even if he doesn’t know the number any more; all first, all his, and all things he never dreamed he’d gain. 

Just a sweet pressure, warm and a little brittle, Akira’s lips so deeply chapped by the sudden chill of the month, and he’s terrible at remembering Chapstick unless he’s at Goro’s place. They part too soon, and Akira moves to the side, wrapping his arm around Goro’s waist and leaning into his shoulder as they survey the group. 

“They’re like ravenous wolves,” Goro says, a little too loud as Ann looks him dead in the eyes as she eats half a slice of cake in one go. Then almost chokes. 

Akira laughs, dragging both their chairs closer, almost battling Futaba for food in some strange action that Goro has learned is some sibling like thing, as he calmly takes his own plate. 

Despite the initial dive, there’s more than enough to go around. Conversation begins, and Goro manages to ask Yusuke about the work he’d been stuck on last time they spoke, which is an easy conversation starter; it makes everything simpler when he manages to engage someone in their preferred topics. 

“Okay, I have to go pick Shiho up from the station soon, so let’s do presents!” Ann says, climbing over Makoto to get out of the booth. 

“Good idea, I should really head home before it gets too late,” Haru says, and Goro is caught up in the movement of the others, who all seem to have hidden different items in various bags for each other. 

He retreats near to the bar, watching Akira sprint off to the attic with a chuckle as Sojiro watches him go with a shake of his head. 

“Do you want coffee? I assume you both won’t be rushing off?” he says, which is a code for Sojiro wanting to spend time with Akira before the holidays, and Goro smiles. 

“We have no plans, and a coffee would be wonderful,” he says, as Sojiro stands, trekking a familiar path. 

“Hey.” 

Goro turns, finding the others are already trading brightly coloured packages, to find Futaba standing next to him, holding out an envelope. He takes it, bemused, and she stands there with her hands behind her back, expectant. 

He opens it carefully, pulling out the small card taped to paper, recognising the name of a streaming site Futaba uses.

“Featherman R2 starts airing in January, and I don’t have time to wait a week for you to catch up. So, there’s a premium subscription for six months,” she says, then abruptly walks away. 

He stares after her, still holding the paper. It’s true that he’d refused to speak to her for nearly a month after she’d spoiled an episode of the last season in her excitement to talk about it, but…

“And that means I’m stealing your TV to watch it!” she suddenly yells from the other side of the room, possibly deafening Yusuke in the process, who is right next to her. 

He gets up and shakes his head, also coming over to Goro, who carefully tidies away the envelope, only to look up to find Yusuke handing over a small frame. 

“I took the liberty of choosing the frame, I hope you don’t mind,” he says, and Goro takes it, ignoring the fact his hands are shaking. 

It’s a sketch of a photo he recognises instantly, one he has a copy of on his fridge. Ann had taken it at Akira’s birthday a few months ago, Akira with his head against Goro’s smiling slightly into the camera, where Goro instead is looking downwards having not actually noticed the picture, but he’s still smiling, almost more than Akira. 

It’s a good rendition of the photo, and he almost likes it better in the shaded lines. He swallows, something hard and tacky in his throat as he looks to Yusuke. 

“Thank you,” he manages, and realises belatedly he didn’t thank Futaba for her gift. 

“You’re most welcome. I had good subject matter,” he says, then leaves as if he hasn’t just shaken something inside Goro with such a simple gift. 

“Hey, me next!” Ann says, jumping in front of him and handing over another envelope, this one a pale blue shade with snowflakes on it, matching washi tape on the back. He gives her a look before peeling it back carefully. 

It’s a voucher for an afternoon tea party at a café Goro recognises even before Ann starts speaking. 

“This was the place we went to last month, but you know Akira and Shiho didn’t love it as much as we did, so I thought we could go? They’re doing specialty cakes, it looks amazing!” she says, already excited and gripping onto his arm, Goro still feeling so confused about what’s happening he’s not truly aware of her steering him back into a chair. 

He coughs, throat tight again. “Is this just an excuse to have that gateau again?” he says, and she punches his arm. Hard. 

“Hey! I was there, I saw you drink three milkshakes, I know you love it just as much as I do,” she huffs with a smile, and the problem is she’s correct. He did enjoy it as much as she did. He just didn’t realise she’d noticed. 

He jumps as a badly wrapped package is placed in front of him, and Ryuji sits down next to Ann. 

“Open mine next, it’s way better than cake,” he says, which makes Ann stick out her tongue as if they’re both still kids. 

Ryuji’s given him climbing gloves. Good quality, brand new gloves with an excellent grip. As Goro turns them over in his hands, Ryuji leans forward. 

“One of the personal trainers in my new gym is big into climbing, and said these are the best. You probably have some but hey, new equipment is always good,” he says and Goro nods, then looks up. 

“You are correct, thank you. And thank you, Ann,” he says and they both grin, so easy with their affections. 

“I’m afraid mine is less fun,” Makoto says, sliding a small box across, from the other side of the booth where she’s sitting next to Yusuke, whose neck is craned to talk to Futaba who is leaning over the booth on the opposite side. 

He opens Makoto’s to find a pen set, which would normally be an odd gift but Goro enjoys writing by hand. He takes notes in class by hand, has taken to scribbling down fleeting moments in a journal as his therapist said it’s good to sometimes just write out intrusive thoughts. Other times he just ruins pages with ink, it makes things oddly better for reasons he cannot articulate. 

Another person who noticed something he didn’t think they would. Or even then, would care to show. Makoto is not someone he has spent any time alone with, and even in a group, it’s occasionally strained. This is beyond unexpected, and the undulation in his mind, the catch in his throat, are momentous. He can barely comprehend exactly how he’s feeling. 

“Um.” 

He looks upwards to his left, to where Haru stands just over his shoulder, and for the first time in minutes he clocks Akira, standing just behind her. Haru is stiff in her movement, as she slowly holds out her arm, producing a neatly wrapped package in crimson and gold paper. 

“Here. Merry Christmas,” she says, extremely quietly, and Goro reaches out slowly, just in case he’s imagining the gift is actually for him. She doesn’t snatch it back, but allows him to take it, and his frame trembles with the unknown, hating how out of his depth he is and has been since he entered the café. But his fingers remain steady as he once again carefully peels back the paper. 

The package opens to reveal a scarf. It’s dark red on black, almost a tartan pattern, and soft to the touch. He swallows; he’d left his scarf on the train recently, just hadn’t prioritised getting a new one despite Akira’s pestering. And here is a new one, from Haru of all people. 

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shuts it again promptly and wonders how on earth he’s going to articulate any sort of sentiment considering he doesn’t think he has a handle on what he’s experiencing at this moment. 

“I-it’s just a scarf,” Haru says suddenly, and he looks up as she covers her mouth with her fingers, eyes wide, and blinking. Goro wonders for a second if she’s going to cry, then considers that he might cry and none of these eventualities are fucking acceptable and god, why the hell is everything so much harder, disastrous and yet better nowadays? 

He manages to unstick his mouth. “I like it. Thank you very much,” he says, and it’s something between slurred and mechanical, a sluggish manner of speaking that usually happens when he’s overwhelmed. 

Haru nods slowly. “You’re welcome,” she says, then turns abruptly, which is fine, as Goro decides it’s better for him to turn away as well. 

The rest of the group are fiddling with their gifts, or picking at the remaining food, smiles bright and easy. Goro still feels like an outsider, but not so distant, even as he clears his throat. 

“I apologise, I didn’t bring presents,” he says, genuinely starting to worry that he has made some sort of error seeing as they’d all managed to find something for him. 

There’s a sudden pressure on his back, arms around his shoulders as Akira leans over. 

“You came, that’s more than enough,” he says, voice not particularly loud but carrying, at least he assumes so by the way the others nod around him. 

Akira kisses his cheek, lingering as if to make a point, so Futaba throws popcorn at them which get stuck in Goro’s hair. It’s strange and uncomfortable like friendship is when you’re learning how to make it work in your 20s, but it’s not bad. 

The others decide to leave soon after, with noise and exclamations, promises to meet up for new years. Goro is given another hug from Ann, and says slightly detached goodbyes to everyone, a half smile exchanged with Haru. Which all feels like a rather incredible amount of socialising in what was only a few hours. 

“Here, drink on up,” Sojiro says, startling him with the coffee he mentioned early as Akira closes the door. 

“You kids headed out later?” he asks. Akira shakes his head as he takes his own offered cup and joins Goro in the booth. 

“Too busy, I picked up a cake earlier, though,” he says, and Goro frowns as Akira pushes him towards the wall. 

“More sugar?” he says, and Akira nods seriously, as if Christmas Eve should be spent eating enough sugar to keep them up all night. 

Perhaps it is. He wouldn’t know. This is the first Christmas Eve he remembers celebrating since his mother was still alive. Maybe this is how it should be.  _ Or will continue to be _ , someone whispers quietly, and instead of squashing that, he lets it mull over. 

They had discussed going out, it is one of those couple clichés that Goro rolls his eyes at but Akira seems to enjoy, much like Valentine’s and White Day. But Akira had said the crowds are ridiculous, and nowadays, that can be too much for both of them. Another issue he’s suddenly developed despite living in Tokyo for years. 

“Come by tomorrow, we’ll be closed. Futaba said something about a game she wants to show me, but I’m sure I’ll be too old to understand,” he says. 

“Alright,” Akira says lightly, then drops his head on Goro’s shoulder. 

It’s quiet and calm; Sojiro joins them in the booth while they drain their cups, the rush of socialising calms until Goro is more at ease, the delicious coffee and familiarity of the cafe soothing. He’s mostly quiet, allowing Sojiro time to focus on catching up with Akira; an unspoken fact of what their visits are for since Akira moved out. It’s an odd affection, but clear and deep, something Goro is almost jealous of, if Sojiro didn’t make the effort to include him too. 

He is learning there is not much room for jealousy if those around are generous enough when given a chance. 

“You sent cards to your parents?” Sojiro asks as they pull on their coats, Goro twisting his new scarf around his neck. 

Akira nods but says nothing further, and Goro takes up his hand Sojiro leaves it at that; the one ask, and the one response enough to cover obligations. They part with a promise they’ll come by tomorrow to save Sojiro from Futaba. 

It is busy when they leave, Goro glaring at several people who walk into them, Akira pulling him close in lieu of Goro screaming at a salary man who shoulder checks him too hard. The train is awful, and Goro ends up being pushed into Akira, who slides a hand around his waist. 

“You don’t have to trip to get close to me,” Akira teases, leaning closer, and Goro puts a hand on his forehead to push him away, annoying several people around them, m directing his energy at poking Akira rather that screaming at individuals with no sense of personal space. 

By the time they exit to Akira’s place, the streets are calmer, and Akira is insistent on walking with his arm still around Goro. 

“This is hardly practical,” he states, but doesn’t move away, as Akira digs his fingers into Goro’s side. 

“It’s a couple’s day, and we’re a couple,” he says, as if this explains everything. 

He does have to let go to open the apartment door, and Goro feels himself calm even further at the familiar setting. Once his coat and shoes are off, Akira kisses him once more, nose so cold against his skin. 

“Sit down, I’ll bring you cake and coffee,” he says, placing one last kiss on Goro’s forehead which effectively short circuits him for a whole minute. They always have that effect. 

The small apartment is warm and cluttered in that typical Akira way that Goro is trying to get used to. He moves several papers off the couch, placing them carefully on the table in the kitchen near Akira’s laptop, before settling himself down. He’s here nowadays more often than his own place, partly as it’s closer to university but mostly as it has Akira in it. Spaces without him seem so much less than they are. 

Akira returns with a huge slice of strawberry cake that makes Goro’s mouth water despite having eaten not too long ago. He places it down with a flourish, then goes to collect his own, sitting beside him. 

“You have to tell me if I picked a good one,” he says, and waits, as he always does when he wants Goro’s opinion on food, for him to take the first bite. 

It  _ is _ good; the exact amount of cream and sweetness that he prefers, the strawberries so fresh Akira must have ordered this in advance. Once again, everything is a little harder to deal with, the waves of affection he has for this man too much all at once. 

“It’s wonderful,” he manages, and instead of trying it, Akira leans forward and kisses him. Slow, steady, cupping Goro’s face with his hand. Goro shudders a little, mouth opening, kiss deepening yet still smooth, no haste and just the moment. It makes him dizzy and craving, the influx of sensation making him punch-drunk on all things Akira within seconds. 

When he pulls back, Akira stays close, smiling softly. 

“Thank you for coming today,” he says, and Goro realises that it was truly important to Akira for some reason that he did, more so than just his simple invitation indicated. 

He isn’t sure why. Akira doesn’t need him to be friends with them; and yet his want to bring Goro inside his own circles somewhat if not completely, is so clear now. He’s not sure if he and the others turned a corner today, or where it came from. But this Christmas Eve is significant, if only in that it meant something to Akira that all of them did this. 

“Of course,” Goro says, and Akira leans back on the couch, taking Goro with him so he’s half in his arms, his hands closing over his coffee mug. 

Goro wonders if Akira will even eat the cake, or if it will end up being entirely his. He’s not going to complain with either outcome; the fact Akira bought it is a gift enough. 

The thought has him tensing. “I didn’t get you a present,” he says, which is worse than lacking in getting his friends’ gifts; he thinks he’s missed some key aspect of a relationship by failing this part. 

Akira though, just hugs him tighter. “I don’t want anything. Well, I want you to stay,” he says, and Goro smiles, leaning back. 

“I’ve already agreed to stay the night,” he reminds him. 

Akira fingers drum against his stomach, a nervous action that has Goro frowning until-

“You could keep staying. If you wanted to.” 

Goro’s mind has to repeat those words at least three times to confirm they were spoken, and he slowly uncurls from Akira, turning to face him. He’s a little shocked at how nervous Akira looks, already playing with his hair in the moments it took Goro to move. 

“Are you asking me to move in?” he says, for he needs absolute answers or his brain will make jumps that are rarely beneficial. 

“Yes,” Akira says, resolute even as he pulls at his hair and Goro doesn’t think any representation of love in song or words will ever reach the height of what he’s experiencing in this second. 

He grins, then reaches out, tugging Akira closer by his collar, whose eyes widen even as he goes without resistance. 

“Merry Christmas,” Goro says, and watches, heartbeat almost painful in it’s crescendo as Akira’s face lights up so dramatically, and he cannot believe he can make another person so happy. 

He may not have killed a god, or been part of the Thieves in the truest sense. But he has a place now, one for him alone, wanted in his own way by others. And that is more than he ever could have wished for. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Come follow me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)


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